LITMIR.BIZ

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on it.

      – Who is this? – he asked me.

      – And this? – he showed another.

      I squinted, “I don’t know…” I replied.

      The conversation with Round-faced apparently was not over, I do not know why, but he began to talk about Christ.

      – Jesus is a traitor, he betrayed people, he could have saved them. – said Round-faced, addressing me, his face serious.

      Marianna was silent, she just didn’t know the right answer, never thought about it and didn’t think to think. There were actually many answers: maybe people were not ready for change, maybe the time had not yet come.

      The whole meeting took place as if in a light mist, and why they are talking about Christ now never even crossed Marianna’s mind.

      For some reason, I found myself in a distant small room with Round-faced. He was playing a tape for me, like on a tape recorder, periodically stopping, looking at me and asking:

      – Do you hear? Do you hear?

      I had a hard time understanding what was there… sounds were coming through, snippets of voices, and even music, but quietly.

      Paused for a bit… a song: “White roses, white roses…” – I heard Shatunov’s voice.

      – Recognize it? – Round-faced.

      I’ve always loved “Gentle May,” it’s a song from my childhood. Suddenly, the tape stopped, it ended.

      – That’s it, – said Round-faced.

      – We need to perform a ritual – declared Tall, and Marianna found herself in another room with Tall, while Round-faced vanished somewhere.

      Tall prepared some nonsense apparently for the ritual: a mirror, a bowl of water, a little candle. He filled the room with smoke.

      My face was painted, smeared with black strokes, soot or marker. It resembled the face of an Indian or a warrior preparing, camouflaging before entering battle.

      – Here, look, – and Tall led me to the mirror in the bathroom.

      I examined my naked body to the waist and my face: black lines on my forehead, cheeks.

      Tall always did everything quickly, moved quickly, like a shadow. The room was dim. He conjured over his things.

      – Give me the ring, I need a ransom, – Tall.

      I took off the ring from my finger, simple, bought for pennies, but looked like gold. Tall put it somewhere, maybe threw it into the bowl.

      – Stand here, look in the mirror, speak your desires, – said Tall.

      I stood, looked in the mirror, silent, as if in a trance.

      – Lord, save my soul, and the souls of my loved ones. Only save the soul, – I murmured mentally.

      – Look into the bowl of water! – commanded Tall.

      Marianna stared into the water for a long time and saw nothing.

      – Do you see anything in the bowl? – Tall.

      Marianna shrugged.

      Then Tall jumped up, sprawled on the floor, arms and legs spread like a star; and lay like that for some time.

      – How do you feel? – Tall to me.

      Then he looked into my eyes: – And hatred… it’s like…

      Tall made a movement above my head:

      – I place you here, on the left, – made a gesture over my head, or on the right, – he rotated his hand to the right of my head, – No, to the left.

      Maybe some kind of receiver, I thought.

      Still, Tall guessed at cards or cards for me. Maybe he guessed before the ritual, everything was like in a fog.

      Staring at his cards, he shouted with his metallic mocking voice:

      – Actually, nobody really loved you.

      – Yes… there was one, loved a little.

      – And who is that… who is Mykola, who is Igor? – continued Tall, – Do you know?

      I shook my head.

      – So who is Mykola after all? – leaning into the cards, insisted Tall.

      Marianna desperately sorted through people in her mind with the name “Mykola,” and remembered no one, just shrugged.

      Marianna ended up on the couch next to Tall, Tall looked into her eyes with his empty, cold eyes.

      Marianna examined the red hair on Tall’s bare chest.

      – You know, you were a strong magician and sorcerer in a past life, – Tall.

      Marianna had no idea, but one image often came to mind: a person from the Middle Ages in a hood, such cloaks were worn in those days. And the language, similar to Latin, always seemed native to her, somewhere she had heard it.

      When communicating with Tall, I couldn’t shake the feeling that they wanted to catch me on something, tempt me, it wasn’t fear, I wanted to defend myself.

      Tall stared into my eyes:

      – Did you… did you kill your mother…?

      I shook my head in astonishment.

      It became clear to me that he wanted to catch and accuse me.

      – You worry about your soul… – Tall.

      I was looking for a way out. It seems to me that in my inner body, a mother with a child is.

      – Oh, you’re like that, well, okay…

      Tall and Marianna are in the yard of the house. Marianna leaves.

      Tall playfully calls after her: – Wait, let me summon your deceased mother so you can chat with her. Come on, it’s nothing for me.

      – No… don’t, don’t. – Marianna imagined this horror, it’s terrifying, it’s not allowed.

      Marianna leaves. One thought in her head: just don’t look back, and walk faster.

      ***

      The small town of Semivetrinsk. Marianna rushes into her house and frantically rummages through books.

      – Marianna, what’s wrong with you? – her curious sister Amina flew over.

      – Here, found it! – holding a worn copy of Bulgakov’s “The Master and Margarita.”

      – There’s something in Kharkov… – Marianna.

      – Why are you so scared? – Amina kept pestering.

      – What? Flying coffins? – Amina.

      – Marianna covered her face with her hands and sighed: – Nothing…

      Then she lay down on the bed with Bulgakov’s book and frantically started devouring the pages. It turns out I hadn’t read this book before.

      Marianna in the Desert

      Egypt. Desert. Heat.

      Marianna walks through the sands. The wind rustles her clothes, they are silky, blue. She barely steps, exhausted by the heat, it seems her strength is leaving her. Marianna falls onto the sand.

      Marianna… Marianna…

      Marianna prayed fervently, passionately,

      Her rags worn out, wounds bleeding,

      She would have kept going, but had no strength left,

      Perhaps

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